


Bell-Ringing Christmas Delight

by sailingtovalinor



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Christmas Fluff, Confused Stiles, Derek is a Failwolf, Fluff and Angst, Grumpy Derek, M/M, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 22:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailingtovalinor/pseuds/sailingtovalinor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But Stiles is still in front of him, looking at him expectantly, humming ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’ under his breath; and Derek figures he should at least reward the kid for his persistence and dedication. Or something. He sighs, grabbing a $10 bill out of his wallet, and stuffs it into Stiles’ kettle. Stiles grins, almost impossibly wider, and he opens his mouth to thank Derek, probably, but Derek just pushes past Stiles without staying to hear what the kid has to say. All Derek wants is dinner, he’s had it up to <em>here</em> with pushy sisters and pushier bell-ringers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bell-Ringing Christmas Delight

**Author's Note:**

> So, I saw [this prompt](http://mandanarry.tumblr.com/post/70714557031/okay-i-had-an-idea-for-a-sterek-fic-and-i-want), thought to myself, ‘Okay,’ and this happened.
> 
> This one's for you, Tumblr user [mandanarry](http://mandanarry.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Note: Derek refers to Stiles as a 'kid' several times in this fic, but he's not actually a kid. He's of perfectly legal age, and things.

Derek stomps his way down the row of shophouses, still seething from the conversation he’s just had with Laura. He’d called her to ask about the cupcakes she’ll be making this weekend, and whether she needs help, but along the way she had started griping about a million things that has nothing to do with him. Well, nothing to do with him, he hopes – he didn’t pay attention to her tirade beyond the first few sentences.  Still, she’d managed to pass her bad mood on to him, which he doesn’t appreciate in the least. He ignores everything he passes by, determined to avoid any and all human interaction (excluding service staff), grab dinner and lock himself up in his apartment.

He would have managed it, too, if not for the face and the bell that pop up in view – unfortunately, just outside the Indian diner which Derek has set his sights on for the night. Derek sighs, trying to pretend he hasn’t seen a thing, but the bell-ringer is persistent.

‘Hi, mister! Happy holidays, would you like to donate to Joy Foundation?’ the kid – Stiles, according to his name tag – asks, grinning widely, shaking his purple kettle with the name ‘Joy Foundation’ emblazoned on the front. Derek eyes the kettle, and raises his eyes to meet Stiles’. The kid has- he has pretty eyes, Derek notes, before he catches hold of himself. Derek shakes his head, frown deepening, and Stiles must have taken it to mean a rejection of sorts, because his smile falters. He rallies, though, continuing to say, ‘Aw, mister, ‘tis the season! You’ll be helping the children’s hospital by donating!’

Derek, now trying to sidestep Stiles, but failing because the kid seems adamant to block his passage into the diner, pauses and grunts, ‘Should you really be hassling me?’

Derek’s almost sure that it’d get the kid off his back, maybe make him feel contrite, but Stiles just laughs in response. He shakes the kettle in front of Derek’s face again. ‘Think of the kids!’

Derek groans inwardly, wondering what else he could do to get away from this- this _Stiles_. It’s not that he’s not willing to part with his money – it’s for a good cause, after all – it’s just that the only cash in his wallet is his money for dinner.

But Stiles is still in front of him, looking at him expectantly, humming ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’ under his breath; and Derek figures he should at least reward the kid for his persistence and dedication. Or something. He sighs, grabbing a $10 bill out of his wallet, and stuffs it into Stiles’ kettle. Stiles grins, almost impossibly wider, and he opens his mouth to thank Derek, probably, but Derek just pushes past Stiles without staying to hear what the kid has to say. All Derek wants is dinner, he’s had it up to _here_ with pushy sisters and pushier bell-ringers.

*

Derek stands at the counter, trying not to fidget too much as he waits for the cashier to process the transaction. Unlike him, though, the cashier clearly has no qualms about making her feelings known as to how much of a hassle she thinks Derek is, because she lets out a loud, world-weary sigh, looking as though she’d break Derek’s debit card in half if she could.

Derek doesn’t blame her. His bill amounts to less than $10, and here he is, paying for it with a debit card. He thinks of Stiles outside the diner, and he must have groaned out loud because the cashier shoots daggers at him. He averts his eyes, and looks out the window instead, only to catch sight of Stiles, probably harassing other poor, unsuspecting passers-by.

 _That kid,_ he grouses. _Such a menace._

* * *

 

Derek drops by Laura’s bakery, Cupcake Magic, the following Monday, only to be sent out again with a list of items she needs to re-stock the supply room. He doesn’t work there, not really – but both Derek and their younger sister Cora are frequently around the shop anyway, and Laura’s nothing if not excellent at putting them both to good use. Derek’s sure Laura gets a kick out of sending him to get supplies – something about _‘that grumpy face in such a store’_ – but Derek doesn’t mind, because he’s usually the one stealing Laura’s cupcakes. He likes to think of the trips to Bake-It-Yourself as paying his dues.

Derek’s almost at the door when he literally bumps into someone, and he lets out a groan when he realises that it’s the bell-ringer from before. Stiles’ face, for some reason, visibly brightens when he sees Derek. Derek would’ve preferred to pretend that he hasn’t seen Stiles, but he has to admit that it’s not a viable option.

Stiles straightens the elf hat he has perched on his head with one hand, and goes, ‘Hi again, mister!’ Eyes twinkling, he proceeds to hum ‘Last Christmas’, holding his purple kettle out towards Derek, thankfully not shaking it in his face this time, nor saying anything else.

‘Don’t bell-ringers generally stick to their locations?’ Derek grumbles. Yet, seemingly against his will, he continues to stand outside the supplies store instead of going in, even though Stiles isn’t blocking his way. He levels an unimpressed glare at Stiles, and Derek is unsurprised when Stiles laughs, throwing back his head as he does. His little elf hat falls to the ground, but Derek pays no attention to it. His focus is on the expanse of Stiles’ throat, at the moles dotted across his skin. Derek’s almost overcome by the sudden urge to step forward and _lick_ , and-

A bell rings in front of Derek’s face, accompanied by Stiles’ slightly concerned voice, saying, ‘Mister?’ Derek’s eyes snap up to Stiles’ face, and he swallows, trying not to look too awkward as he makes to move past Stiles. He stops in his tracks when he’s suddenly met with Mrs Wickerham’s glare (and where did she even come from?). Flustered, he ends up stuffing the only banknote he has in his wallet into Stiles’ kettle. This time, he gets to hear Stiles’ cheery ‘Thank you!’ to which he replies, ‘Um. Yeah.’, before he beats a hasty retreat.

As he walks away from Stiles and Mrs Wickerham, mourning the loss of $50 (and of course it’s that much money, of _course_ it is), he hears her say, ‘Don’t worry, sweetie, he’s the same to everyone, he’s not nearly as charming as his lovely sisters.’ Derek inwardly curses both Laura and Cora, though he doesn’t actually have a reason to; but then he hears Stiles’ bright laughter as he responds, ‘Oh, he’s not that bad! Despite his grumpiness, he’s already donated twice!’

Derek’s almost too far to hear anything clearly anymore, but he swears he also hears Stiles say, ‘I like a challenge!’ Derek smiles, then.

*

Later, Derek attempts to leave the store with his purchases without capturing Stiles’ attention. He clearly fails, however, because Stiles calls out, ‘Bye, Derek, and thank you again!’

Derek doesn’t respond, but for some reason, Derek feels his chest tighten at hearing his name, at Stiles _knowing_ his name, which- No, he’s not going to go into that, he’s not going to examine that feeling, why is there even a feeling, he doesn’t even _know_ Stiles.

 

* * *

 

Almost a week passes before Derek sees Stiles again – not that he’s been counting, no, he’s just… Relieved, that no one has attempted to accost him, to charm him with their bright smiles and whiskey-coloured eyes and out-of-tune humming and- What? No, Derek hasn’t been counting the days, he _hasn’t_.

As it happens, over the almost-week, the temperature has been decreasingly steadily. Saturday night finds Derek sitting in Laura’s shop as she closes the register, making notes on her notepad. It’s been a slow day, even as popular as Cupcake Magic is. Derek attributes it to the rain, which has been pouring since the early afternoon; Laura agrees. He’s trying to ignore Cora’s plaintive pleas for snow, but it’s difficult to, seeing as she has her face pressed against his arm, eyes blinking up at him. He rolls his eyes at her, and Laura snorts. Secretly, Derek wants snow, too, if only as ammunition so he could lob snowballs at both his sisters. They’d been annoying him lately, badgering him to make copious amounts of cappuccinos and lattes and hot chocolates, persuading him to use the brand-new commercial espresso machine and supplies they had stored in the kitchen. Laura plans on making Cupcake Magic a coffee shop, too, in the future. For now, Derek’s the one making drinks for himself and his sisters. He accedes to their requests, to get them off his back; although really he loves making drinks, enjoys coming up with new combination of flavours to test on his willing sisters.

They’re still sitting by the counter, sharing a cupcake, patiently waiting for the clock to strike 11 so they could lock up, when someone bursts into the shop. The three of them start, all turning to look at the doorway. Derek’s surprised to find Stiles standing there, soaking wet, and he’s not sure what to do, but then Stiles is opening his mouth, only to sneeze.

Laura slips off her chair from behind the counter, ushering Stiles further into the shop. Stiles directs a grateful smile at her and tugs his jacket off. Derek nearly swallows his tongue. He’s trying his best not to look, but Stiles is wet from the rain and he has nothing on but a plain white t-shirt underneath the jacket and that, too, is wet, and is plastered against Stiles’ torso and he could make out the faint outline of his-

‘Um, Derek?’ and Derek’s head snaps up, eyes flying up to meet Stiles’, and out of the corner of his eye he catches Cora’s faint smirk. He curses himself at his lack of subtlety. Stiles doesn’t actually know him though, he might not have noticed that Derek had most definitely been checking him out. He hopes. Fervently.

‘Laura says you have a dry shirt in the back,’ Stiles says.

‘Yeah, I- It’s in the back,’ Derek says gruffly, somewhat needlessly, as he slips off his stool, and he jabs a thumb towards the break room. They both stand there staring at each other for a while, until Stiles sneezes again, and Derek goes, ‘Shit, I- Sorry, come on,’ and leads the way to the break room.

*

Derek’s digging around for a towel to pass to Stiles, so that the kid could actually get dry before putting on Derek’s sweater. (He’d found a sweater, first, and decided that it’d do a much better job at keeping Stiles warm.) He finds one, turns to find Stiles standing behind him, only in his jeans, and Derek almost chokes then, and whatever he’s feeling or thinking must have shown on his face, because Stiles’ lips part, and his cheeks pink up, and, huh. Interesting.

But Derek isn’t about to allow this to get anywhere (not in the break room of Laura’s shop, at least, his traitorous mind interjects), so he passes the towel and sweater to Stiles, before leaving the room in a calm manner. Derek likes to think so, anyway, in truth he might have almost tripped over freaking _air_ in his haste to get out of the suddenly too-small room. Might have.

Derek gets back to the front of the shop, only to see his sisters wearing creepily similar expressions on their _hateful_ faces. He groans inwardly, but all Laura says is, ‘You might want to make him something to drink. To warm him up.’ and Derek takes that as a temporary way out, which it probably is, knowing his sisters.

When he gets back to the front of the shop, a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows in hand (he made sure not to use the teeny marshmallow hearts he’d used for his sisters), he finds Stiles sitting with Laura and Cora. He assumes that Stiles must have told them about their previous encounters, because Laura is saying, ‘$50, really Grumpy?’, the last two words directed at Derek.

He passes the mug to Stiles, and whatever he’s about to say to Laura in response dies on his tongue, because Stiles is moaning over the ‘heavenly warmth of delicious chocolatey goodness’, and Derek is warring to keep his expression even. Or grumpy. Whatever.

Stiles tries to talk to him, then, and Derek responds minimally – grunts, really, because he’s suddenly feeling out of depth; and _Maybe he should show more interest_ , he thinks; but it’s too late, because Stiles’ face falls, and he goes, ‘Well! Thank you for the drink, and the sweater. I’ll- I can drop by, return it to you?’

Derek, though disappointed that Stiles is leaving so fast, only says, ‘Sure, Laura’s open from Tuesdays to Saturdays. You can drop it off here, pass it to her anytime then.’ and Stiles’ face seems to fall further, if it’s at all possible.

Derek panics a little, wonders if he should’ve said that he’ll be there to collect it from Stiles personally, but he says nothing else; and so Stiles leaves after thanking the three of them again somewhat stiltedly, and Derek just sits there.

 

* * *

 

It starts to snow the week before Christmas. More bell-ringers start popping up along the shophouses close to Cupcake Magic – none of them Stiles, Derek notes – but Derek doesn’t mind them so much, he finds himself making sure he has cash on hand, and he donates small amounts every time he passes by a bell-ringer.

(Laura makes a crack about Derek having been unGrinched, due to _‘a certain bell-ringing Christmas delight’_ , and cackles madly; but Derek serenely ignores her, although he does grab one of her special holiday cupcakes in revenge. He ends up having to clean the kitchen for her when Cora rats on him, but he’s not complaining. Mostly because being on kitchen duty involves dealing with leftover cupcake batter.)

*

Derek’s strolling along the row of shophouses one day, to take in the sights – the owners along the row (Laura included) are dedicated to decorating their shops, including the exteriors of them. As he moves along the row, he catches a glimpse of Stiles, ringing his bell, looking as cheerful as ever; cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

Derek wanders closer, and when he realizes that Stiles is wearing his sweater, a warm feeling spreads in his chest, his lips curving into a small smile. Stiles is singing, Derek can hear him now – singing quite terribly, actually, but he has attracted a crowd, all of whom seem to be enjoying the seemingly impromptu solo carolling – and he stands at the edge of the crowd, just out of Stiles’ sight. He suddenly has an idea, and unwinds the scarf Cora had wrapped around his neck. Stiles finishes his song with a flourish, and when the crowd breaks up, Derek sneaks up behind Stiles, wrapping the scarf around his neck.

Stiles flails, and nearly punches Derek in the nose, but when he sees Derek, he stills.

‘Derek?’ he breathes, surprise colouring his tone, and Derek crooks a smile at him, says, ‘Hi, Stiles.’

Stiles scrabbles at the scarf, and for a moment Derek’s worried that he’d pull it off and return it, but Stiles only pulls on it enough to eye it, before tugging it around his neck a little tighter, letting out a little happy sigh. ‘I- Um, thank you? It’s pretty cold out,’ he says as he tugs his sleeves down, and Derek sees the moment Stiles realises that Derek must’ve recognised his own sweater, because Stiles turns red.

Derek raises his eyebrow, just to make Stiles uncomfortable, and Stiles’ mouth falls open, saying, ‘I meant to return it, but it’s getting really cold, and this sweater-‘ he gestures to himself ‘-is really insanely good at keeping me warm, so…’ he peters off.

Derek doesn’t really care, as far as he’s concerned Stiles can keep the sweater if he wishes to. Derek moves closer, smiling, feeling a little more hopeful about this whole… thing, with Stiles, but then Stiles tenses up. Derek stops, and forces himself to say, ‘It’s alright, I don’t mind,’ instead of what he’d meant to – ‘Will you-,’ _something_ , because he wants to do something with Stiles, possibly even have a- a _something,_ with Stiles.

Derek moves away, coughs to cover the awkwardness he suddenly feels, and stuffs his hands into his pockets.

‘Well, uh- Keep warm? You can keep the scarf, return it when you return the sweater,’ he says curtly, and he catches the look of confusion on Stiles’ face before he turns away. Stiles’ mouth is open again, as though he’s about to say something, but Derek doesn’t stay, because he just needs to get away, because- Confusion, really? Of all the emotions to flit across Stiles’ face, confusion should not be one of it – if anything, it is _Derek_ who deserves to be confused. Stiles is the one keeping Derek’s sweater, actually still wearing it – what is _that_ supposed to mean?

*

Derek’s on kitchen duty again, that night – he’s not sure what he’s done this time round to deserve it, but he’s not going to fight Laura on that count. It’s nearing closing time, and Derek, Laura and Cora are all wiped out after a busy evening. Cora’s head is resting on his shoulder as she sleeps, and he’s wondering how he’s going to get up when the time comes for one of them to flip the sign on the door to _Closed_ (and he’s sure it’d end up being him, Laura is on his other side and _her_ head is resting on the arm of the sofa they’re lounging on, legs stretched across Derek’s lap) when, once more, someone bursts into the shop.

Derek’s heart races at the idea that it might be Stiles, but he quickly stamps it down, because he’s sure that whatever happened earlier, that was a rejection, and that Stiles isn’t interested (at least not in him, he seems plenty interested in Derek’s sweater and Cora’s hand-knitted scarf ) – except it does turn out to be Stiles, and Derek- Derek doesn’t quite know what to do, so he stays in place.

It is Laura who straightens, stands up and greets Stiles.

‘Um, I- Sorry,’ he says as he gestures to where Cora’s now stirring, and Laura says, ‘It’s fine, we’re just really wiped out. It’s nearing Christmas, and all – we’ve been busy all evening.’

She moves over to the other end of the sofa, ruffles Cora’s hair to wake her up, and holds her hand out to Derek, keys to the shop grasped in her fingers. ‘Kitchen duty,’ she reminds him, raising her eyebrows, and Derek doesn’t know whether to curse or thank her, but he takes the keys. Soon, both his sisters are out of the shop, bells jingling as the door closes, leaving him alone with Stiles, who’s looking less sure of himself by the minute.

A long moment of silence passes, the two of them staring at each other, before Derek huffs out a breath. ‘So, do-,’ he starts, but Stiles seems to have worked up his courage, because at the same time, he bursts out, ‘What is _this_?’ as he tugs at the scarf still around his neck.

Derek scrunches his face, says slowly, ‘…a scarf?’ and is rewarded with an eye-roll.

‘You know that’s not what I meant. I mean – why?’

Derek’s almost tempted to lie, but he goes with the truth. ‘You looked cold?’ Well, the partial truth, anyway.

He’s met with an exasperated look this time. He seems to inspire that in others, Derek muses, and Derek would laugh if it isn’t Stiles who is currently exasperated with him.

‘Did you want something else, then?’ Stiles asks abruptly, and Derek flinches, because he’s not particularly willing to admit that he might – may – fuck it, he _does_ want something else.

‘Why would you think that?’ Derek asks instead.

‘You were moving closer!’

‘I was about to ask you… Something,’ Derek says, catching himself in the nick of time.

‘You stopped! Then you left!’

‘You tensed up, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you don’t really want-‘

‘I thought you were going to kiss me!’

‘-me to be anywhere near you,’ Derek finishes, before he registers what Stiles has just said. ‘Wait, what?’

‘Um,’ Stiles says, flushing red yet again, and Derek- Derek’s taken by it, as he’s taken by everything else that Stiles _is_ ; and Derek must have unconsciously moved closer, or Stiles has, because suddenly they’re almost toe-to-toe, and this close Stiles’ interest in him is almost a tangible thing, something Derek could reach out and feel; because Stiles is meeting his gaze and Derek’s a fool if he pretends not to see the fondness in Stiles’ face, beneath the exasperation and the embarrassment.

Derek’s done with pretending.

‘I was going to- ask you out,’ Derek admits, ‘I don’t _know_ you, I know that, but- I really want to.’

Stiles looks a strange mix of pleased and embarrassed then, before his brow furrows and he repeats, ‘Was?’

Derek is quick to reply this time, says, ‘I still want you to. Go out with me.’

When Stiles grins, whiskey eyes crinkling at the corners, Derek might have felt a swoop in his stomach. Might have. He’s no longer paying attention to might-haves, though, because Stiles is suddenly a lot closer than before, and this time Derek’s breath hitches, and Stiles laughs.

‘I thought you were going to kiss me, you know,’ Stiles says again. Derek stays quiet, content with studying Stiles’ face, and Stiles continues, ‘but you didn’t, and I wish you had, so-’ and he leans forward, and kisses Derek.

*

‘Kitchen duty,’ Derek reminds as he drags Stiles into the kitchen. Stiles laughs, and Derek tugs him closer, presses Stiles against the refrigerator, and kisses him again, swallowing Stiles’ moan, hands gripping Stiles’ hips.

(If they end up making the kitchen more of a mess before finally getting round to cleaning it up, Laura never has to know.)

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know how to fluff, oh my god. I adopted this idea and ran away with it, screaming wildly, and I’M SORRY IF IT’S NOT WHAT YOU WANT. /cries into pillow
> 
> Still. Merry Christmas, here’s a gift of sorts?
> 
> As always, y'can find me on [Tumblr](http://mazikeen.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
